The Fallen Prince's Vengeance
by CapsuleChic
Summary: On the fateful day that a fire consumed Ouji Enterprises was the same day that the darkness beckoned him. Forced to live in Hell for seven years in order to survive, Vegeta struggles to piece together fragments of who he was as the monster inside him thirsts for vengeance. The memories do not fall back into place until he catches a flicker of blue...*PRINCE OF WALL STREET SEQUEL*
1. Chapter 1

Hello readers,

This may come as a surprise to many of you, and some of you may not believe me and may even flag this account….but this is Daughter of Vegeta speaking!

I went on a very long hiatus from writing due to becoming very busy in most aspects of life, including college. As I was busy with personal life, writing came and went pretty slowly but I did get some work done. One of my buddies has helped me with the plot of Prince of Wall Street and its sequel, and he too has been very busy with graduate school and we did not have much time for any communication. That being said, I was gone for so long, that I completely forgot how to get into my original account. I had about four to five email accounts around the time and used one of the emails to create my fanfiction account back in 2011.

Once enrolling into Uni a couple years ago, I actually began deleting email accounts because I was tired of being bombarded by emails from numerous sources: I figured that my life would be easier and I'd be less stressed by skimming it down to two emails: my personal and my school/work email.

Little did I realize that I had deleted one of the emails - which was a Yahoo account - that I used to create my Daughter of Vegeta account with. That meant that when I tried logging in about a month back, I realized I did not remember my password, nor would I be able to get it because the email the account was linked to was no longer existent.

I have tried getting into contact with fanfictionsupport, but so far I've had no luck in receiving any responses from them. I hope within the next few weeks that I may have an answer, but in my defense, I have emailed them about the situation and hope that they will understand.

All of that being said, I decided to create this new account "CapsuleChic". I plan to be reposting stories from my old account here that I have saved in my Google drive, as well as the sequel to Prince of Wall Street. I have some other exciting stories planned that focus a little less on romance, but I'm just hoping to ease back into writing first with what I know.

To be fair, DoV won't do anything because she is me, soooo….

I hope that this message is believable to all of you because I really am Daughter of Vegeta. I feel that the only way I can probably prove this, besides this message, is to begin posting stories again.

Each repost of an old story will have a similar message on it to inform all readers that this isn't a joke.

For those of you that wish to follow me and not flag me, thank you.

Thank you, and welcome to the sequel to The Prince of Wall Street...

DoV


	2. Prologue: Part One

**Hello readers.**

**Welcome to the long-awaited sequel to Prince of Wall Street. As you have read in the Author's note before this story, I have created a new account. However, in my new profile I have linked access to my previous story.**

**If you are interested in reading the Prequel to this story, Prince of Wall Street, be my guest. You do not necessarily have to as all flashbacks will be explained here.**

**Enjoy reading!**

* * *

The cafe's thick blues music thumped through the speakers, the smell of arabic roasted beans wafting through the air.

A bald-man leaned back in his booth, eyeing his phone as he took a sip of his latte. The attack would happen any minute now, but that was if the tip from Frieza's inner-circle had been reliable. His charcoal eyes flickered toward his younger brother across from him, and his brother gave a small smile.

"I'm tracking the car's location, brother," the youngest said quietly. "It's still in the parking garage. Ouji should have received the tip about the conglomerate mergers meeting and should be preparing to leave the office now."

The eldest heaved a sigh. Great. Now it was a waiting game. Would Ouji make it out alive and well? Or would he be caught in the crossfire of Frieza's game? Either way, he decided the only reason that he truly cared was because his life depended upon it.

"_Bring him back __**alive**__," _his Master's words echoed through his mind. When he had questioned why Ouji mattered at all, the expert assassin responded, "_Because the enemy of my enemy is better to be on my side."_

The man lifted a hand to his head, rubbing off its sheen before he began wrapping a turban around his head. As soon as he finished, a loud BOOM rocked the coffee house's table.

The eyes of two brothers met, and he nodded toward his younger brother.

"Chioatzu, get the car and fire equipment ready."

* * *

Heat.

So much heat.

Smoke billowed around the form of a barely conscious man, flames licking the cement ceiling. Vegeta sucked in particles of ash, choking as he released bloody hacks. The walls of the underground parking garage shuddered under the looming threat of the fiery inferno that claimed his company. His head lolled to the side, blood trickling down his face and onto the crumbled brick and pavement beneath him.

The open-air parking garage was illuminated by an orange glow, cherry sparks flying in several directions. Vegeta blinked his bleary eyes, his mind clouded in a haze of lightheadedness. He needed to get out of this caged hell.

Grunting, the man forced himself into a sitting position before releasing a pained yell. Vegeta fell back into the rubble, glancing at his unmoving arm, trapped beneath a steel girder. The garage was reaching its breaking point, a chain of fire wrapping around the perimeter of the cement walls.

His lungs thirsted for oxygen, his insides burning with thick clouds of smog. His empire, his company - it was falling into nothing except dust.

And he was going to burn alongside it.

A silent, pandemoniac scream fled his lips as he slapped the steel girder beside him in anger. Pain seared up his surely broken arm, and he howled in frustration. His breathing was ragged as he leaned against the girder, tears streaming down his black-smeared cheeks.

Vegeta didn't want to die.

Sobs wracked his body, saliva dribbling down the cleft in his chin. Vegeta's muscles ached and a numbing sensation ebbed throughout his arm as it swelled from the pressure of the girder. He closed his eyes, conceding to the thought of Death wrapping his ghostly arms around him, pulling him away into the darkness. A flicker of blue flashed behind his eyelids before a bright, beaming smile of his ex-lover. Then, a lavender haired babe appeared, his periwinkle eyes so much like his mother's staring back at him.

His son.

God, he was going to _die_.

The dizzying, radiant heat crept closer, threatening to pull him farther into the burning abyss of his eternal hell.

Death-it was coming for him.

The flame-haired man rested his head against the side of the girder, his breathing slowing. If he were to die, let it be by suffocation and not burning.

Vegeta inhaled deeply, imagining he was inhaling Bulma's gentle, floral scent instead of the toxic smoke. Spittle flew from his lips as he gagged on the combination of black smoke and his coppery blood.

Vegeta imagined that it was her skin she was touching, and not searing steel. That it was her warmth enveloping and comforting him in his last, pain filled moments. He gagged on the toxic air that crept into his lungs.

She was all that he ever wanted to remember.

Their heir.

_His son._

Darkness edged his line of vision as his head lolled backward. His pupils focused on the brilliant orange flames that inched closer to him. Perhaps this was the light at the end of the tunnel, that so many people associate heaven with? A silhouette of a woman appeared, cerulean tresses bouncing against her shoulders. She was beckoning him, calling his name in hushed whispers. His lips twitched upward at the thought of having his own angel.

* * *

Black tires screeched to a halting stop three blocks away from the incinerating Ouji Enterprises. The air was thick and heavy from the heat of the fire and ash fell like snow against the hood of the midnight blue vehicle.

"Hurry Tien," Chiaotzu ushered his older brother from the car as he prepared to shift gears. "The target should be in the garage."

Tien nodded pulling an oxygen mask over his mouth. He lifted the tanks over the tough fire-retardant coat covering his shoulders. Dressing as a fireman was the only way to assure a stealthy escape if he dug out Ouji in time.

"_If _he's alive," Tien unbuckled from his seat and threw the passenger door open, "pull around as soon as I've sent coordinates."

With that, he left to push himself through crowds of terrified civilians before submerging into the fiery inferno.

* * *

Vegeta reached a hand with broken skin toward the figure, feeling it grasp his forearm. Was this death? It must've been.

Good. He wouldn't be in pain for much longer.

"Shit," the silhouette hissed, breaking the imagery of the blue-haired woman Vegeta envisioned. The fireman's oxygen tank gave a low hiss as he inspected the small hole in which the Vegeta's arm was stuck. "I need smaller hands to get that out…"

Swearing loudly, Tien's eyes frantically darted across the garage's crumbled state. "C'mon, c'mon!" The fire began approaching them more quickly than before, sparks flying toward his covered arms.

That's when he saw it: a steel bar.

Tien rushed toward the steel bar, wrapping his nylon coated gloves around the rod's sweltering heat. He clenched his teeth as he moved the bar toward Vegeta.

"Ouji," Tien barked. He saw the man's eyes blink before they landed on him. "Be ready to move your arm!"

Vegeta heard the voice. 'Move my arm?' he thought in horror, his consciousness threatening to leave him. How could he move without injuring his arm further? Vegeta watched as the mysterious man slid a steel bar beneath the girder, preparing himself to lift. 'This is your chance,' Vegeta thought to himself, his chest tightening. 'Live.'

"Ready? Go!" Tien demanded as he heaved loudly, his face turning a bright red as he lifted the girder slightly. "Agh!" he screamed, his muscles bulging as he saw Vegeta clumsily maneuver himself from beneath the girder's weight, rolling down a pile of rubble. Tien released the bar with a huff, and the girder smashed the metal into a thin line.

"Come on," Tien wheezed as he grabbed for Vegeta. "We need to leave _now_."

Vegeta cried in protest as he felt something pulled over his hair. '_A hat?' _he could smell the singe of his hair and clumps fell against his shoulders. The world turned lop-sided in his vision and he gasped for air. He did not notice that the strange man had begun to carry him through the wreckage of the fire until his head lolled against his shoulder for support.

Vegeta heard the man faintly speak into an earpiece, "_forty eight and thirty-eight at negative twenty-six and twenty-two, Chiao…" _

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Blood pounded through Vegeta's ears as bile burned his trachea. Tingles and short stabs of pain traveled through his arm with each bounce and leap they took to escape. the person holding him took in order to escape.

Foam gathered around his lips as he gurgled, choking on ash that thickly covered his lungs.

And then, air.

Precious, clean air. It surrounded them as they emerged onto the bustling catastrophic streets of Downtown East City.

The fireman began running, pushing past through the crowds who were staring at the burning foundation of Ouji Enterprises, tumult. Nobody paid them any attention - for they were all too fixated on the incineration of the well-known corporation.

Vegeta watched as the world seemed to swirl around him. He inhaled a raspy breath in hopes to unmute the world around him. Kami, he wheezed a cough, blood flying from his lips onto the mask of the fireman. Vegeta's vision began to fade, and he decided then that he never wanted to return to this nightmare.

However, he heard a shrill shriek that broke through his fogged consciousness. Car horns blared through the air and he heard several screams and the crackle of a fire.

Then he heard it - "_No...NO! VEGETA!"_

Vegeta's eyes widened, and he twisted within the fireman's grasp. 'That voice...who does it belong to?' he thought, panicked as he craned his neck in the direction of the shout. In his peripherals, he caught a flicker of blue. '_Who...who is that?!'_ Vegeta panicked, images flying through his mind. He knew her. Who was it?

He opened his mouth to scream, but his voice...it was stuck.

Vegeta tried again and still nothing came out. He began hacking on the smoke that tingled his throat.

'_Bulma…' _ Vegeta thought, tears of his own welled within his eyes before he succumbed to unconsciousness.

* * *

"_Father?"_

_A brooding, flame-haired man slouched in his cushioned seat. Vegeta Senior casted his red-eyed gaze toward the young boy calling for him, sneering. His elbows rested against his knees, his fingers gripping a crystal glass filled with liquor. "What is it, brat?" he slurred, wiping the exhaustion from his face._

_The mini-Ouji scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. Vegeta sighed, shaking his head in disapproval at his sire's behaviour. Senior had not been sober since the day his mother passed, a week prior. As hard as it was for his father, it was harder a ten-fold for himself._

_Senior refused to tend to his newborn, leaving Vegeta with the responsibility of protecting his younger brother - no matter the cost. He had been skipping school, and watching Senior wallow in self-pity over the death of his significant other._

_Did he not realize that he had not one, but two sons to care for? They were motherless, and to add to the mix, they now had a father who functioned solely on hard liquor and beer._

_Vegeta had no other way to care for the baby with the exception of what had been prepared before Tarble's arrival. The nursery was well-kept, furnished completely with all the necessities to care for a newborn. Without a mother to breastfeed or his father willing to buy formula, Vegeta was running out of options._

_Vegeta had to demand his father to take him to the store to not only get food for Tarble, but for themselves as well._

_Vegeta gulped, clearing his throat. "Tarble and I need food."_

_Senior threw his head back with a guffaw, his head connecting with the cushioned chair. "Tarble?" he sneered, scoffing. "That thing shouldn't be alive. He is what killed your mother. I don't understand why you bother."_

_Vegeta's brows drew together, his fingers clutching at his sides. There was a hidden admittance behind his father's words; that he would allow his children to die and suffer. Senior blamed Tarble for their mother's death? There was no one to blame except himself. "You were the one that wanted a spare heir!" Vegeta spat furiously, taking a daring step toward his father. "If anyone is to blame for mother's death, it is __**you**__!"_

_The owner of Ouji Enterprises shot from his seat, rounding on his eldest. "What did you just say to me, boy?"_

_Vegeta attempted not to shake with fear under his father's furious gaze. Junior stared wearily at the drunken man's fingers as they curled into fists. "You heard me," Vegeta challenged, raising his tear-filled gaze to reach Senior's bleary eyes. "Do you think mother wants you to treat us this way? She left this world thinking you would take care of us! Not drink your pathetic ass to the brink of insan-"_

_Senior threw his shot glass to the floor, liquor and glass spreading out against the white tiles. Senior connected his fist against his son's jaw, watching as he fell to the floor with a satisfied smile. "Care to repeat that, brat?" he asked between ragged breaths, dragging a hand across his scruffy cheek. "Or do you need another reminder when not to cross the line?"_

_Vegeta blinked, clutching his jaw with a pained gasp. He stared at the floor with disbelieving, wide eyes. His father had hit him._

_Senior had actually hit him!_

_Vegeta lifted his gaze from the floor, tears streaking his face. Vegeta spat a glob of blood toward his father's Oxfords, glaring. He pushed himself up from the ground before losing his balance and stumbling back into the glass coffee table. "Is that all you've got, old man?"_

_Vegeta was slammed down against the floor before he had time to react. His hand flew to cover his eye with a moan, wincing as he felt the tender flesh bruising already. Vegeta's vision became blurred with unshed tears, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth as his father's foot connected with his backside._

_Vegeta yelped when he was kicked toward the wall, before connecting against the alabaster. Vegeta lifted his head, glaring weakly at his father before glancing at the wall behind him. Above the couch, a family portrait hung and his mother's smiling face was ingrained in his mind. _

_Her friendly eyes encouraged him to live, to succeed. _

_To fight against the monstrosity his father had become._

_And before he could scream in defiance, his father dissolved into the ground. Instead, the living area swirled around him before plunging him into a depthless darkness. Vegeta twisted and turned, flailing as his body was pushed down, down, down._

_Vegeta slammed against the surface of rubble, the distinct smell of smoke wafting into his nostrils. Vegeta released a bloody hack, covering his nose and mouth with the crook of his elbow. He glanced down at a hand in bewilderment, noticing that they were much larger than moments before._

_Vegeta hissed into his suit jacket as flames licked at his feet, and he jumped away from the fire. His chest constricted at the sight, his breath escaping him in ragged intervals. He had to get out!_

_And so, he began to run far, far away from the flames, only to stop when he heard a loud cry:_

"_NO! VEGETA, NO!"_

_Vegeta swivelled on his heel, craning his neck in several directions in search for the desperate pleas. Who was it? What did they want? Why were they calling for him? He looked back inside the burning building, gasping when a womanly silhouette appeared in the window, screaming for him._

_Mother? Vegeta's heart constricted within his chest as he shook his head in denial. No. It couldn't be, could it? Vegeta attempted to run so that he could search for her. The rubber of his shoes had melted into the pavement of the street and flames erupted around him._

_Vegeta yelped, waving his arms as if he could force the flames back. Instead, they condensed around him, and he fell to his knees. He clutched his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as the woman's shrieks grew louder._

"_I hate you, Vegeta! I hate you! You never wanted me. You're leaving me here to die! God forbid if you ever come back and if I help you. I hate you!"_

"_LEAVE ME ALONE, WITCH!" he bellowed, squinting through the cherry red flames. The heat intensified, swirling around him in a suffocating silence as he breathed heavily. Falling against the ground, he curled into a small ball. Just before he closed his eyes once more, he saw a pair of bright blues staring back at him before the world turned black._

* * *

Vegeta sluggishly opened his eyes, his breathing slow and ragged. Sweat covered his chest in a slick sheen, the dim lighting of the room reflecting off of each salty bead. Pain shot down his neck as his head lolled to the side, and he groaned. Lifting his chin, he desperately attempted to sit up against the pillows that were stacked behind him but he was too weak.

Blinking away the sleep from his bleary eyes, he glanced at his chest with a deep frown, noting the gauze wrapped securely around his torso. His vision became myopic, swimming as bile burned the back of his throat. Crimson liquid trickled from his ear canal, dribbling down the side of his raw, wounded neck.

_Where am I? _he internally questioned, closing his eyes as he released a burp. He cringed at the sharp pang within his chest as the gas fled his lips. Squinting, he forced his vision to focus on his main source of pain - his arm.

Unfortunately, through his blurred visage, all he could see were the large purple splotches covering his ligament. A groan fled his lips and he shivered against the cool air swirling around him. His chest rose and fell, struggling for the next gulp of air.

"Nng," he grunted, sinking into the plush sofa beneath him. He shifted his legs, feeling the the fine linen of sheets rustle against his burnt skin.

What happened that made him so weak? Why couldn't he move?

A quiet cry escaped Vegeta as a shadow hovered over him. The figure frowned with dismay, and Vegeta blinked, trying to focus on the man. Vegeta saw his lips moving, yet no words were heard. Instead, his world was a complete mute and all he could hear was his internal screaming for help.

And then without warning, his eyelids fluttered shut and he succumbed to another bout of deep slumber.

* * *

The walls were closing in around her, shrinking and forcing her to wallow in the deepest trenches of misery. A solid, heavy weight pressed against her heart at the mere thought of her ex-lover, and the trip to his penthouse with Tarble turned out to be no exception.

Bulma Brief was truly a miserable, dejected being within the world. Perhaps the Kai were toying with her and her life. Every time something got shitty, it was alright because things would always get shittier. Whatever the reason, the magical beings appeared to be thoroughly enjoying her torment.

Bulma inhaled deeply and her lower eyelids burned as water blurred her vision. She stared longingly at one of Vegeta's many crisply ironed shirts as she cradled Trunks. The faint scent of Vegeta's musky cologne wafted into her nostrils, and she choked back a sob.

The world fell away from her, swallowing her whole before the figment of her imagination sprung a ghostly image of Vegeta.

Everything surrounding her drained of all colour, except him. Vegeta's figure shone brightly and all the furniture around them paled in comparison to his illuminated presence. He was perched against the opposing wall with one leg propped against it, arms crossed over his chest. His head cocked to the side, and he offered her that teasing smirk of his.

Bulma's heart swooned before clenching tightly within her chest. No, this was not real. She shrunk back into the cushions of the black, leather sofa, clutching Trunks closely to her bosom. Her lips parted at the sight, and she blinked profusely. Daring to test her sanity, she whispered hoarsely, "Vegeta?"

Vegeta's image pushed itself away from the alabaster wall, and slowly saunters toward her and their son with a small grin.

Bulma's heart lurched within her throat as he came closer, closer. She swore she could hear the faint clipping of his wing-tipped shoes against the floors. She shuddered as he stopped before her, his lifeless eyes gazing deeply into hers.

Wordlessly, Vegeta sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, his elbows resting against his knees.

She rested a hand above heart, willing herself to catch her breath. His dark gaze searched hers, almost as if he were seeking for answers. Tears dribbled down her cheeks, and she shook her head. "Don't look at me like that," she keened, tilting her head to the side. She released a bitter laugh, trembling, "You're breaking my heart."

The corners of his mouth tugged downward, and he sighed. His eyes flickered towards their son, who was suckling Bulma's breast in quiet contentment, and he stared at the purple-haired babe.

"Yes," she smiled weakly, stroking Trunks' back comfortingly. "This is your son, Trunks. I'm sorry that you didn't meet him," Bulma pressed her lips together, sniffling loudly. He looked so real, so...alive. Except, that was the problem. He was not alive.

He would never be alive.

And, she could not continue living in her own internal hell.

"You're not really here," she choked back a sob as she watched his eyes widen, startled. She sighed when Vegeta leaned forward, tenderly cupping her cheek. Staring into his orbs, she witnessed his conflicting emotions; regret, guilt, love. All of which made her heart spill blood as it crushed under the weight of her own words, "You're not _real_."

"Bulma?" Tarble's voice rang throughout the room, interrupting her moment with Vegeta. Bulma wiped furiously at her cheeks with one hand. "Are you alright?" He inwardly cringed at the question. _What a stupid thing to ask - of course she isn't alright! She was just speaking with an imaginary Vegeta!_

The heiress twisted toward the direction of the voice, peering through her bangs. She panted gently, her blood quickly pumping through her veins. She licked the corners of her mouth before facing forward once more, not responding.

Her gaze flitted around the room, and her heart sank when she realized Vegeta was no longer there. He had disappeared.

"No," she murmured sadly as Tarble fumbled with a large box. She listened as he shuffled around the couch, the box hitting the floor with a thud. "I don't know what I am, Tarble."

Tarble slid next to her, the cushions lowering with the added weight.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, resting the cardboard container against onto the floor. Just as he was about to envelope his "sister-in-law," her bare breast came into view, and he immediately scooted away from her. A giggle hit his ears as his face burned bright red, his fingers numbing. "S-sorry, erm," he glanced around the living room, not entirely sure where to place his focus. "Can you cover yourself up, please? I think Vegeta'll haunt me if I see you anymore...indisposed."

Bulma offered a faint laugh. "You really think so?" she teased with a strained smile. She sighed. She needed to pull herself together in front of Tarble and for her son's sake. With person around, she felt less lonely.

"Alright, alright, c'mon Trunksie," she cooed, pulling the babe away from her breast with a pop. She draped her shirt over her chest once more before patting Trunks' back lovingly as he rested his head against her shoulder.

God, how long had it been since she last laughed?

Too long.

"Yeah, honestly,I'd be castrated." He buried his face in his hands, peeking through the cracks between his fingers. "Now, are you decent?"

"Yes!" Bulma chuckled and slapped Tarble's shoulder lightly. "I didn't think you'd care so much."

"Bulma," he sighed, removing his hands from his face before turning toward her. "You're like a sister. It's too weird to think of you any differently."

Bulma gave a curt nod. "Good, because I think the same of you."

Tarble glanced at his sleepy nephew, and he sighed. He reached a hand out, gently ruffling the babe's lavender tufts. "Will I be a part of his life, B?"

Bulma's jaw slacked in disbelief. How could he even ask that? "Of course, Tarble! Only if you want to be. Why would you think otherwise?"

He merely shrugged. "I...don't know. With Vegeta gone, I just thought…"

The blue-haired woman flinched at those words, and regret immediately flashed across Tarble's features. Instead of acknowledging his mistake, Bulma cleared her throat. "You're always welcomed to come see Trunks and help me take care of him. Now," she eyed the box on the ground, tapping her foot against it. "What's in here?"

"Oh? This old thing?" Tarble chuckled, lifting the box onto his lap. He opened the flaps before blowing the dust away from the contents inside. "I found it in Vegeta's closet, and what would you know? Old photos."

"Old photos?" Bulma repeated with disbelief, raising a brow. "Vegeta, out of all people, likes to take trips down memory lane?"

Tarble barked out a laugh, resulting in Trunks lifting his head with curiosity. "Nah, but we do have a bunch of photos. Though, I'm not sure who took them," he smirked at the thought before meeting Bulma's gaze. "Maybe he did."

Bulma snorted at the incredulous thought. "Yeah, like that's believable," she rolled her eyes before curiously leaning toward the box. She pursed her lips in thought before a genuine smile spread across her face. "C'mon, I want to see!"

Tarble grabbed the box, holding a picture between his fingers. Before he could react, the photo was already out of his grasp, and Bulma held it stiffly between her fingers.

Bulma giggled at the sight. A teenaged version of Vegeta was slouched against the hood of a midnight blue Mustang, his hands shoved into his jeans. He wore his usual sly smirk and bangs covered his forehead as he held his head high with confidence. Her sadness began melting away as she lost herself within the time capsule.

"Wow," she breathed, taking in every detail of the plastic-covered image. The late 60's Mustang was pristine clean. She had to refrain from snorting- typical. However, the picture was captured on a dirt road. Surrounding the edges of the road were white picket fences, along with branches hanging low with crisp, red apples. It must have been autumn. "Where was this?"

"Out in the countryside, a few hours north of East City," Tarble replied with a nostalgic smile. He could practically feel the sun kissing his skin as he ran through the rustling leaves, Vegeta's laughter peeling through the warm air as he chased after him. "Those were really good times," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "We'd go camping to get away from Dad, and among other things…"

"Other things?" Bulma pressed, thirsting for more knowledge about her lover. "What did Vegeta do?"

"He might've drag raced a time or two."

Bulma released a gasp that startled Trunks and her hand flew to her mouth. "Are you kidding me?!" she shrieked, her face becoming turning rubicund as she held back genuine laughter. "He really, really drag raced?!"

Tarble offered a wide-eyed stare before he smiled. This was the Bulma he knew. "Uh-huh."

"Oh my God, I didn't think I was right!"

Tarble raised a quizzical brow. "Right about…?"

"Vegeta drove insanely fast on one of our dates," Bulma mentioned, sorrow slowly creeping back within her at the thought of that night. "I accused him of drag racing in his younger years, but he never confirmed anything! Plus, I was just joking…"

"It was something he loved. I'm sure you could figure that much," he chuckled, shaking his head. Oh, the memories of his brother teaching him how to drive were some of the best moments. He did not think he could recall Vegeta any happier than the moment he was behind the wheel, allowing all hell to break loose on the road. "He especially loved it in nice cars-"

Bulma's squeal made him pause mid-sentence as she shot up from the sofa. "Tarble! Vegeta's Ferrari, I want it!"

Tarble sputtered in disbelief. "The Ferrari? Out of _all_ his shit, you just want the Ferrari?"

"Well, yes-maybe, I don't know!" Bulma struggled to come to a decision before shaking her head. "Yes for now. Just now hurry up!" she snapped, cradling Trunks to her chest as she strutted toward the door. "You'll need to call a towing company. I can't repair it here!"

Tarble's face blanched at those words. "A towing company?!"

"Don't question it. Now, press the pedal to the metal and hurry up! I need this car!"

* * *

Air swirled around him like a storm, and he shuddered as a cool draft bit at his exposed flesh. Vegeta pushed himself into a sitting position, and his head spun with a bout of dizziness. Vegeta's stomach stung with hunger and his mouth felt drier than cotton. He lifted a hand, massaging his temple gently as he blinked, forcing himself to focus on his surroundings.

The room was a small, circular hut. A rug centered the wooden floors and a wooden coffee table rested in the center of the carpet. His eyes flickered to the doorway, noting the light peeking through fluttering curtains. That's the way out, he thought, relief washing over him. I need to get out.

His palms dug into the plush, woven linen couch as he swung his legs over the edge. The thin, cotton sheet covering his legs fell limply to the floor. Inhaling deeply, he pushed himself up from the sofa, stumbling forward slightly before restoring his balance against the straw walls of the hut.

Vegeta inhaled deeply, attempting to catch his breath. How had he gotten so injured? Where was he? Why was he not in a hospital? Questions danced around Vegeta's mind as he shuffled forward, lifting a hand to the heavy drapes. He pushed them aside, taking in the sight of a small open patch of land followed by hundreds of pine trees laying before him. "The fuck?"

Birds chattered and chirped within the distance, and a light breeze brushed through his singed hair. A soft, susurrus emitted from the trees as their leaves rustled against the terra-firma.

Vegeta lifted a hand to cover his eyes, and he stepped onto the ground, his toes curling around blades of mildew covered grass. He turned in a slow circle, his mouth dropped open in disbelief. Beside the few small, abandoned huts-much like the one he exited-that sat upon stilts, nature surrounded him in every direction.

He was in the absolute middle of nowhere.

The crackling sizzles and pops of fire made his ears twitch, and he swivelled on his heel in the direction of the heat source. Cautiously, he placed one foot in front of the other with focused concentration as he walked toward the campfire with a frown. What idiot leaves a campfire unattended?

Meat hung from a large stick, the juices from the dead animal dripping into the cherry red flames below. Vegeta took a frightful step away from the fire as the pungent smell of smoke wafted into his nostrils.

A shudder rolled down each of his vertebrae, gooseflesh dotting his skin. Vegeta glanced down at his forearms, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of several scrapes and cuts littering his flesh. He tilted his chin toward his chest and his eyes widened at the several blotches of scarred tissue shimmering on his pectorals.

_Where did I get these? _Vegeta thought with a scowl, splaying his nicked fingers across his chest.

He lifted his gaze back to the fire, a sense of foreboding and dread pooling within his stomach. Bright flames danced before him, flickering with vibrant life. He could feel himself being enveloped into their welcoming arms as he drowned in their intense heat.

Vegeta's eyes widened with realization. There had been a fire. He remembered the feeling of warmth from the flames that teased him with death.

_Snap. _

Vegeta swivelled on his heel to face the person approaching him. A yellow and green gi heavily hung from the man's shoulders, a red symbol in the center of his chest. Vegeta's mouth curled into a sneer. "Who the hell are you and where am I?"

"Tien Shinhan." The corner of the man's lips quirked up. "And I cannot answer your second question."

Vegeta was miffed at the sight of Tien's ominous, all-knowing smile. Was he mocking him? How dare he! The edges of his vision blurred, his head swimming with confusion. His stomach flipped, bile rising in the back of his throat. "What do you mean you cannot tell me?" Vegeta spat, swaying slightly. "I demand to know why I'm not in a hospital!"

"You know," Tien remained calm, crossing his arms over his chest. "Others may have assumed that I was the culprit behind the fire-bombing, which in fact, is inaccurate."

Tien frowned. The ex-billionaire looked like shit. Tufts of black hair covered his skull and dark, murky bruised trailed down his arms and legs, blending in with his burned, raised skin. Vegeta looked like he was holding onto his last straws of consciousness. "The mercenary who killed your father was behind it."

Against his will, Vegeta swooned on his feet and his body staggered toward the cold ground. His vision blurred, and the pounding of dehydration obscured all other sounds.

Tien's hand shot out to steady Vegeta, his fingers gripping his shoulders. "The man who killed your father is known as Frieza. The reason behind Senior's death was due to some unpaid fees to kill Doctor Brief."

_'__Brief?'_ Vegeta thought with disdain. It would not have been the first time his father had hired someone to do his dirty work, but why the old coot who owned Capsule Corporation? Surely his father would have informed him of a looming threat from the Brief family? Vegeta reached out to steady himself against Tien's shoulder.

Tien's studied the swaying man, noting Vegeta's bleary visage. "Do you understand, Ouji?"

"Father is dead?" Vegeta whispered before his condition overtook him, stealing his consciousness and leaving his body limply sagging against Tien.

"Surprised you made it this far," Tien mumbled, shaking his head with dismay.

Does Vegeta not remember his father's death? Tien scowled. If so, his condition is worse than I assumed. He must have hit his head before I made it to him.

Tien grunted as he lifted Vegeta's lean figure, slinging him over his shoulder. Sighing, he began walking toward the hut Vegeta emerged not too long before. "Back to bed with you..."

* * *

"Nnng," Vegeta moaned. He heard the distant sounds of crickets outside the rounded hut. Frogs called out for their six-legged meals somewhere in the distance. He inhaled sharply as a cool breeze, laden with the scent of pine, juniper and water, washed across his feverish skin.

Vegeta's eyelids fluttered open, and he was met by soft candlelight on a table several steps from his couch. Around the table was the young man from earlier and a very short, pale boy. They spoke in hushed tones while apparently playing a board game.

"Will he be alright?" Chiaotzu whispered, his gaze focused on the checkerboard below. His hand waved around the wooden figures before plucking a pawn, moving him forward one step.

"He will heal," Tien affirmed, moving his King to the left. "Internal injuries, however, are another story..."

"What do you mean, brother?" Chiaotzu's lifted his imploring stare from the chessboard.

Tien sighed. "When he awoke last, he did not remember his father's death."

Chiaotzu's thin lips parted, his eyes widening. "Does that mean he doesn't remember the heiress?"

"I don't know," Tien cut in with a harsh whisper, pressing a finger to his lips. "He does not need to be concerned about that, or the boy. You know he cannot leave, anyways. Shen will not stand for it and Frieza would have his head as soon as his emergence from death hit the tabloids."

Chiaotzu dejectedly glanced down at the wooden playing board. He crossed his legs, running a hand over his buzzed hair. "What will he do then?"

"Heal and then train under Master," the older sibling responded, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "He has no other choice. For whatever reason, he wanted Ouji. "

_Master? Train? _Vegeta moaned before succumbing to the darkness once more.

* * *

****

**Warm sunlight streamed through an open window, comfortably warming Vegeta's skin in most places, burning it in a few others. "Damn, that hurts," he huskily complained, his throat still raw from smoke inhalation. With a great effort, he rolled over and managed to get to his feet. His mouth felt like sandpaper.**

**With staggering steps, the once powerful executive crossed the tiny room, only to discover the sink had no running water. "What the hell?"**

His blurred eyes scanned the counter and finally rested on a pitcher. He lifted it, removed the lid and inhaled the pleasant scent of water.

Without pausing to get a cup, Vegeta lifted the earthenware pitcher to his lips and gulped the cool salvation with greed. After savoring the fresh taste and the coolness of the water, he poured the excess across his face and down his body. Never had he felt so refreshed.

"Awake again, are we?" Tien's voice cut through the silence of the hut as he pushed past the drapes covering the doorway. He saw the muscles within Vegeta's back tense, watching as the Ouji set the pitcher down with a clank. "And moving, too."

Vegeta recognized the voice. He took a breath to steel himself before turning to face the intruder. His fingers clung to the countertop as he struggled to remain upright, but he would be damned if he let anyone see it. Vegeta recognized the man but could not place his name.

_"Never show weakness,"_ Vegeta heard his father's voice growl, a memory from his childhood. Being so weak and confused now, he almost felt like he was once again that little boy, crying over his mother's grave until his father admonished him, made him strong.

"Are you still hard of hearing, Ouji?" Tien arched a dark, thick brow, crossing his arms. "Your other injuries have healed well, though, you will have scarring from the fire."

"Fire?" A brief image of flames whooshing toward him sent Vegeta into realization. "Is that why my skin still burns?" The ex-billionaire's skin was raw, pink. His shoulder blades were covered in blisters and his hair singed, bald in a few areas.

"Yes. Very good, you remember," Tien said as he strode to the small countertop and placed a bucket of water atop it. "Drink up. You need to stay hydrated, and since you're moving, I shouldn't have to do it for you anymore."

With a great effort, Vegeta climbed to his feet and turned to the counter just as his stomach growled.

"Chiaotzu!" Tien called over his shoulder before gripping Vegeta's left bicep, helping him keep his balance. "Bring in the broth and rice!" Tien's eyes flickered over to Vegeta, meeting his gaze as he firmly address the billionaire. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Vegeta carefully searched his memory until the last curled his lips into a triumphant smirk. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"This is serious," Tien snapped, his eyes narrowing at Vegeta's attempt of foul humour. '_If he won't be willing to tell me, I'll spout things he should remember and see his reaction,' _Tien reasoned before allowing a smirk of his own to form.

"Do you recall having sex with the Brief girl, or are you fantasizing about another?"

Chioatzu had arrived quietly into the room with a large pot. He set it on the counter, hunching over its steaming contents, stirring the meal. He glanced to-and-fro between both men, chewing the inside of his cheek.

"_Bulma Brief_? What the fuck? I've never even met the broad! She's always been in hiding." Vegeta chuckled at his own thoughts. "The way she hides from cameras, I bet she's uglier than a toad."

Chioatzu placed a bowl of chicken broth in front of his brother and Vegeta.

Tien's lips tugged into a frown. "Shit, you really don't remember," he sighed, removing his grip from Vegeta's arm. "What was the last conglomerate you overtook?"

"I don't know." Vegeta sighed at the silly question. His hand trembled as he lifted the bowl to his lips. Vegeta racked his mind as took a sip and relished the warmth it brought to his belly before responding, "West Industries?"

"West Industries?" Tien repeated. "Ouji, that was over two years ago."

Chiaotzu sat atop a stool, silently spooning rice into his mouth.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Vegeta glared.

"Mr. Ouji, do you remember what Tien told you last time you were awake?" Chiaotzu quietly spoke up before his brother's temper got the best of him. When he was answered with Vegeta's blank stare, he continued. "There was a firebombing in your company a few weeks ago by a mercenary known as Frieza. He killed your father, too."

Vegeta stared at the boy then shook his head, slowly at first then definitively. "No. No, that's not possible. My father's power hungry, but he's not an idiot."

"We have no reason to lie," Chiaotzu stated calmly with an innocent shrug.

"My brother is right," Tien interjected, scooping a ladle of rice into Vegeta's bowl, handing him a bamboo spoon. "Your father hired Frieza to kill Doctor Brief for motives unknown to us. However, the night Frieza went to murder him, the old man suffered a heart attack. Frieza didn't receive pay from your father, and it resulted in his death."

Tien moved away from Vegeta's rigid form, sitting across from him. "Eat."

"There is more," Chiaotzu spoke, softly. "The heiress. You and her were intimately involved. She bore you a so-"

"That is enough, Chiaotzu," Tien growled warningly, directing his glare toward his younger brother and shaking his head. They could not afford anymore distractions for Vegeta. Not when they had to prepare him before Master Shen's return from his latest mission.

Vegeta stared into his rice bowl as he tried to make sense of what they said. Finally, he looked at the pair. "You know what I think? I think you're full of shit. I think you kidnapped me and pretended to be a fireman to bring me into this," he paused to gesture to their surroundings, "hell hole so you could demand a ransom from my father. Then, you told me he's dead to keep me under control. That's what I think." He paused and his lips curled with bitter remorse. "But, the joke's on you. He doesn't give a damn what you do with me. You'll never see a penny."

Tien gripped the counter tightly, his knuckles turning white. His patience was slowly ebbing, yet he had to remind himself that Vegeta did not remember, and he had every right to think the way he did. "Chiaotzu," Tien barked, glancing the direction of his sibling. "Grab the last two editions of Wall Street that we bought before leaving East City."

Chiaotzu's cheeks were full and round, containing several spoonfuls of rice. He obediently nodded before hopping off of his stool and rushed toward the corner of the room. He opened a leather knapsack, digging inside for the papers.

"Money is not a concern of ours," Tien smoothly lied, his lips twitching. It was a lie; they needed money to get out of debt to their master. Yet, there was no way for them to get any with the exception of tournaments - but there won't be another for a few years. Though, Shen had promised to lower his and Chiaotzu's debts by ensuring Vegeta's capture and good health. "Chiaotzu?"

"I've got them," the youngest brother responded, gliding toward Vegeta and resting the papers in front of him. The older edition from a few months prior displayed an image of Vegeta Senior and Tarble, back to back. The photo was labeled: _'UNTIMELY DEATH OF OUJI SENIOR!'  
_  
The other paper had a picture of a smiling Bulma Brief, bold letters stating: _'CAPSULE HEIRESS HAS RETURNED!'  
_  
"Those scars on your body, those incisions...they aren't fake, Vegeta," Tien continued as Vegeta's face remained stoic while observing the papers. "This is very real, and there is a man who murdered your father, and almost killed your brother and lover."

With a deeply etched frown, stopped only by the stiff and injured skin on his face, Vegeta studied the papers. After a cursory glance, he cast aside the one about the Brief girl as it had nothing to do with him. Rather, he focused on the one detailing his father's death and the attempt on his younger brother's life.

"It is true," he finally whispered then looked to the boy apparently named Chiaotzu. Fragmented memories of Tarble over recent years grappled his mind. "What of Tarble? Is he-" Vegeta fought the catch in his voice as he considered the possible fate of only the second person he could ever remember caring for or caring for him, "well?"

"He is alive and well," Tien affirmed. "Your old head of security...Son Goku, was it? He helped in saving his life."

Chiaotzu had returned to nibbling on his rice. Through a mouthful, he murmured, "When I was out last, I heard he was doing well and there's rumours about him starting a foundation in your name, if that offers any comfort."

The young boy closed his mouth when Vegeta's face turned a deep red, deciding it was best to remain silent.

Vegeta clucked his tongue in response. "That sounds about right for the sentimental fool. He never had a heart for business. I suppose it's for the best."

Tien knew the tone within Vegeta's voice all too well - he had it once as well. When his and Chiaotzu's parents passed, and they were all alone in the world. The tone of hidden guilt, wishing that one could push away their feelings for another being.

Eventually, it was possible to stop caring for others, and it would be for Vegeta.

"You must begin to train," Tien stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Master Shen will return in a few weeks, and you must be ready. He will not accept the weak-hearted, and they only have one way of leaving this place," Tien warned, his foreboding tone promising death. "You have no hopes of leaving besides training."

"Training?" Vegeta rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Tien sighed heavily, wishing that the Kai would help him with this impatient man. "Think of the type of people we are, Ouji. You're out in the middle of nowhere. You have never heard of Frieza before, correct? That's because he is hidden well, like us. He hides because he's a mercenary. How do you think we know that?"

Tien slightly smirked when Vegeta's dark eyes flashed with alarm.

"Ah, so you do understand your situation."

"So, you brought me here to die?" Vegeta scoffed. "You should have left me where you found me."

"We brought you here so you have a chance to live," Chiaotzu corrected with a frown. "Had we taken you to a hospital, Frieza would have killed those you love, before hunting you down, and slaughtering you."

"Don't you understand?" Tien exasperatedly sighed, his voice raising. Master Shen instructed him to find a way to tap into the rage that would surely spur Vegeta into desiring revenge. It would be the only way to ensure Frieza's demise. "Don't you want vengeance? This will be the only way you ever get any."

"Vengeance?" The word caught Vegeta's attention. He cocked a brow as he listened for more details.

_'There's the fire,'_ Tien's finger curled around his cup of broth. _'I need to yield it, and fuel him. He won't survive Shen otherwise.'  
_  
"Your company was destroyed, blown to pieces. You lost your father and almost your brother, and you are telling me you have no desire to kill the slimy snake behind it?" Tien scoffed, shaking his head as he spat, "Coward."

Faster than Tien could anticipate, Vegeta held the front of his gi in a first. The injured man showed remarkable strength as he pulled Tien's face down to his level. "Call me that after I heal, and I'll make you eat the words," he growled in the taller man's face.

"What?" Tien sneered, lifting a curious brow. "As if you can hurt me. Daddy may have beat on you, but that's nothing compared to underground fighting and assassinations, Ouji. You're entering a whole new arena."

Chiaotzu remained silent, his gaze fixated on the two men. He reassured himself that Tien knew what he was doing, and things would be alright.

"We'll see about that," Vegeta retorted. As the adrenaline of the moment began to leave him, he channeled his energy into pushing Tien back as he released his grasp. "Now, out of my face while I eat."

"Chickenshit, Vegeta?" he continued to goad, quickly regaining his balance. He snorted at the man's attempt at intimidation. "I could snap your neck before you could even touch me."

Chiaotzu calmly sipped his broth, awaiting Vegeta's reaction.

"That'd make saving me pointless, now wouldn't it?" Vegeta smugly replied, much more in control of his emotions than before.

Tien chuckled. "You have yet to prove your worth. All I see is a worthless, affluent playboy standing in front of me."

"And, all I see is a smart mouthed pretty boy." Vegeta's lips curled into a one-sided smirk of respect.

"Want to place a bet on that, Ouji?" Tien offered, spreading his arms as if welcoming the singed-haired man a free hit. He grinned cockily, laughing as he pretended he remembered, "Oh that's right. You have nothing."

"Yeah, takes a real big man to challenge someone who's barely awake." Vegeta's smirk curled more at the attack.

"And you think you won't get injured like this out in the field?" Tien snorted, allowing his arms to fall at his sides as he shrugged. "Like I said, arrogant ex-play boy."

Chiaotzu finished the last of his broth and sat in his stool, patiently. To say in the least, he was surprised Vegeta nor his brother had tried attacking the other.

"Do people generally bring blue flames to these fights?" Vegeta snorted.

"Depends if you're going in the weapons division, or not," Chiaotzu piped up, his lips quirking upward, slightly at Vegeta's humour. Maybe he would not be bad to have around.

Vegeta chuckled at the boy's comment. "Why don't you give one of those a try and see how you feel afterward, Tien."

_Whap! _

Tien stuck the tip of a knife into the countertop, his teeth bared as he leaned toward Vegeta. "Listen closely, Ouji," the chill in his voice sent a shiver down Vegeta's spine. "You cannot escape this place whether you're in mint physical condition or not. So either work for us and in return find you revenge, or _die _since you've decided not to be of any use."

Vegeta stared at the white-knuckled grip that enveloped the end of the knife before him. _Ba-bum, ba-bum. _His heart raced inside of his chest as he lifted his gaze to meet Tien's cold, calculating one. There was no humor to detect on Tien's face, and it made his stomach drop in realization that this predicament was _very _real.

Instead of giving Tien the satisfaction of expressing the apprehension that creeped throughout his body, Vegeta said nothing.

"Tch," Tien tutted. He forced a breath through his nose as he pulled the knife from the counter with a small _thud. _ "Consider your limited options," his gaze flitted toward Chiaotzu. "Take Vegeta to shave his head. He looks like an idiot with the bald patches. Be sure to add a cut or two to the burnt patches of tissue while you're at it."

Chiaotzu nodded, reluctantly. He slipped off his seat, his training boots connecting with the ground, softly. He glanced at Vegeta, motioning him forward, "This way."

"I'm going to finish eating, first," Vegeta simply stated, shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

"Very well," Tien nodded before pointing a finger toward Chiaotzu. "Watch him and clean up. I will collect more firewood." With that said and a warning glance in Vegeta's direction, Tien took his leave.

Chiaotzu sighed before sitting on the uneven floor, crossing his legs. His back was straight, and his shoulders were poised as if ready for an attack at any moment. He glanced in Vegeta's direction, watching intently.

After a few more bites, Vegeta met Chiaotzu's gaze. "Never seen a man eat before?"

A faint blush spread across the apple's of the young boy's cheeks. "I live mountain passes away from any civilization, and have only been to the city twice now. I have not seen many men in my lifetime, Mr. Ouji. And I have seen no other men to come and train here, either."

Vegeta considered the boy's mettle. "So, Tien's your brother?"

"Just as much as Tarble is yours," Chiaotzu responded, quietly. He closed his eyes, folding his hands in his lap. As an afterthought, he added innocently, "I am much younger than him, as you can see, but do not doubt my ability to observe and calculate."

Vegeta snorted and are another bite of food. "I don't know you well enough to make any assumptions. But no blade is touching my head if it's as raw as the rest of me."

Chiaotzu chuckled under his breath, his cheeks lifting ever so slightly. "Perhaps I would give the blade to you if you were not so unpredictable, Mr. Ouji. As my brother said, you do look like an….idiot. You can grow it back, if you so desire. But when we go to tournaments, you will have to keep your hair trimmed or have none at all. That widow's peak is recognizable from a mile away."

"Yeah, well trim it down for now. We can cut it shorter when I won't bleed everywhere from even the tiniest nick." Vegeta offered a tight-lipped smile. "And, if your brother doesn't like it, he can put a sock in it."

"What were your words? A gentleman doesn't 'kiss and tell'?" Chiaotzu repeated Vegeta's mantra. "Though, we should use that in a different context, here. Are you finished?"

"You know, kid, you're alright." Vegeta managed a chuckle as he stood from the table. "Let's get this haircut over with. I've got a nap calling my name."


End file.
